


eleutherophilia

by pigeonsatdawn



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Christmas Party, F/M, I'm so sorry, Interrogation, Murder Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Surprises, Suspense, Tension, Warnings listed in top author's note, a hell lot of them, no i'm not, stan march he's the only one with braincells, these bunch of idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigeonsatdawn/pseuds/pigeonsatdawn
Summary: In the midst of everything Lauren Sinclair already has to deal with, she has to deal with the murder of an old coworker, and along with it, many implications tied to the Phantom Scythe and Lune’s existence.(A short murder mystery fic! A bunch of lies, tension, and—my favorite—mental breakdowns. Hope you enjoy this little fun ride!)
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White
Comments: 48
Kudos: 66





	1. home is where the hearth is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the officers enjoy their time with each other in a homey Christmas gathering in a version of Ardhalis that celebrates Christmas, because I do whatever the hell I want in my fics. <3
> 
> Expect fireplaces, hot chocolate, and knit scarves. Expect loud bickering, because the couples bicker all the time, but also expect strikingly tender moments in which your heart will twinge ever so slightly. Expect happiness, for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way I bend the laws of the universe to write a simple wholesome Christmas fic for you all… astronomical. 
> 
> The two songs I listened to (more like sung, really) when planning this fic are [My Only Wish (This Year) — Britney Spears](https://open.spotify.com/track/0cWyiPyP3IS6sL48wlOcqm?si=rYZMQQ0eQEGtkejlzWniCA) and [That’s Christmas to Me — Pentatonix](https://open.spotify.com/track/2U9kDk5mlHYunC7PvbZ8KX?si=ELjX2mS3TOSpBtvkJ40RHg), which is why you get the loud cheers of the joyful seasons _and_ the soft moments of warmth in between.
> 
> 8.6k words is what happens when I try to chuck as many romantic + platonic ships AND fluff as I can into a single fic. Enjoy this train wreck of a Christmas present from me to you all! <3
> 
> **Warning:** I think there are minuscule amounts of mild graphic descriptions, because Lukas Randall… well. I mean, one or two. I think.

**WHY,** of all people, did _William Hawkes_ have to be his recipient for Secret Santa?

Lukas Randall was always glaring, but today his glares seem to be particularly pointed at the Lieutenant, innocently and studiously working on his desk. He’d been wondering what to give to William Hawkes for the Secret Santa, failing to think of a potential gift that he’d like. _Would a pile of completed paperwork suffice? Surely it’ll make his day,_ he thought to himself recurrently, because it seemed like the simplest solution to his dilemma. It wasn’t until he noticed that Kym Ladell kept on silently snickering whenever she saw him glaring that he stopped doing so, apparently having all but plastered on his face who he had to give a present to. He started glaring at the Sergeant for a change, because she was the one who _insisted_ he come to the Christmas gathering later that evening. Sure, it was tradition, but normally he’d skip on said tradition. He was more than satisfied with his own company in the over glorified holiday. 

Kym Ladell, however, was not one to underestimate when it came to blackmail.

As soon as the minute hand pointed at the 12-hour mark, Lukas stood up and began to tidy his stuff. Kym burst into laughter, catching the attention of the other officers, and they turned to look at the two. 

“Are you that enthused to go to the gathering, Grumpy Cat?” Kym teased, a wicked grin on her face. “And here I thought you’d been completely against the idea.”

Lukas made a point to glower at her. “If it weren’t for you—” he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, willing himself to contain his temper. “I haven’t gotten the gift for the Secret Santa,” he muttered, low enough that Kym herself would hear it, but nobody else would. “And I desperately want out of this uniform.”

“Lockers exist for a reason, Lukas,” Kym reminded playfully. “But I hope you do get that gift, not that you’ll have a hard time thinking of something. I mean, he _is_ quite the boring grandpa.”

Lukas pondered upon the thought. _She’s not wrong,_ he realized. _Yeah, maybe I should just get him a sweater, or a pair of socks._ He snorted to himself, imagining the Lieutenant accepting these gifts with utter gratitude, no matter how meaningless the gift could be in actuality. He forced out a grunt of approval to the Sergeant, before proceeding to pile his papers neatly and placing it near the corner of his desk.

Kym Ladell, apparently, was still watching. (She was quite observant for someone considerably aloof and ignorant, Lukas thought.) “Are you even done with your work for today?”

“Would I leave if I wasn’t?” Lukas scoffed, slinging his coat over his arm. “And speak for yourself, Sarge. Don’t concern yourself with my work when you’re always leaving mountains of papers on your desk.” He heard a snicker, and he turned to see that, although William Hawkes seemed to be diligently working on his own tasks, he had a small smile playing on his lips.

_Ah. Of course._

Kym clicked her tongue. “I’m only making sure that you’re doing your work perfectly, as a Sergeant,” she chided. “And this mountain of paperwork you’re seeing is the pile that’s _finished_ , so don’t you question my extraordinary capability as a Sergeant.”

William made a gagging motion, a little too loud to go by unheard. They proceeded to stare at the blonde, and he had the nerve to pretend he hadn’t done anything. Lukas blinked. _Huh._ Perhaps William wasn’t all too stuck-up and boring as he seemed to be.

“Did you—” Kym scoffed, clutching her chest in a dramatic motion. “Did you just _gag_ at what has been the truest truth of all time? If Lauren was here, she’d _so_ agree with me.”

“The truest truth— _Ladell_ , all truth is true; there is no such thing as a _truer_ truth, and even Lauren will tell you that,” William asserted, looking at her with incredulity. “And even if there was, you being anything near extraordinary as a Sergeant certainly came nothing close to what could be considered truth.”

“Oh, ho, ho, you wanna go?” Kym stood up, rolling her sleeves up her arms in what was supposed to be a daunting posture. William groaned and rolled his eyes, but it was too late for him to mitigate the damage that was to be fired at him; it took Kym no less than a second to prepare any argument. “Does it look like it’s out of thin air that I earned my Sergeant rank? Do I need to list all my contributions since my being a Sergeant?”

“I can bet you that the list of how you’ve disrupted the efficiency of the patrol group is much longer than that of your contributions. For example, you’re causing a fiasco now, and it’s catching everyone’s attention, making us finish our work much later than we’re supposed to.”

Kym shrugged, putting up an innocent face. “How’s it my fault that I have an ever staggering presence, and that it takes you all so long to complete your paperwork within the day?”

“I—” William groaned, realizing that their argument had shifted into illogical territory. However, Lukas found it fascinating that instead of backing down and swallowing his pride, William would always continue the argument, equally as illogical, doing all he could just to spite the Sergeant. Of course, in the end, he found that annoying too. How could he not? It always ended in petty battles, attacking ad hominem, causing only noise to be spread and removing all sense of professionality in the room. For example, William’s counterargument to that was “A huge pile of shit left outside is just as staggering, doesn’t mean it doesn’t cause damage to the senses.”

Kym gasped dramatically. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying? Are you implying that—that I’m—a _huge pile of shit_?”

Lukas groaned aloud, before announcing his leave: “I have to agree with the grandpa here, Sarge, you _do_ ruin the productive environment in the office. Now, before I stab one of you with my pen, I will take my leave.”

“You have to admit, it _is_ entertaining to watch them bicker,” Lila Desroses spoke softly from her desk as he made his way toward the door. He paused on his tracks, surprised that she seemed to be speaking… to him?

Was she speaking to _him_?

He turned back to look at her, sitting contently with arms resting on the desk, an endearing smile playing on her lips. Her eyes shifted from the sight of their two leaders still arguing behind them to his face, gaze meeting his, soft hazel eyes against obsidian orbs. The roaring sounds of William and Kym soon fell mute to his ears as his senses singled in on the one most captivating source of all: the woman sitting there so innocently, finding delight in everything, carrying everything with utter grace. 

And he found that, while usually he was quite adept in arguments himself, he couldn’t argue against her words, even though he wanted to. He merely nodded, humming idly as he stared into her eyes, drowning, drowning. It felt like the softest, sweetest pool of hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day, a flame, the small warmth against the harsh world outside. 

Then he blinked. _Ugh,_ he thought to himself. _I shouldn’t be acting this way,_ especially _not in the precinct. Ugh. Ew. Sweet feelings. Get out of my stupid heart. Be cold. Be mean. Ew._

So, like he’d done for the past few months now, he simply turned around, not knowing what to say to the secretary. (He supposed she could even see the blush rising up his cheeks; he could only hope that the shadows of his perpetually gloomy face covered it enough for her not to notice.) Right when his hand was on the door handle, Kym Ladell shouted out from behind: “So you’re definitely attending the gathering, right? You’ve practically got no reason not to!”

“If I’m attending, know that I’ll _definitely_ be committing some murders before the night ends,” Lukas announced, before walking out the door.

* * *

**FOR** a split-second, Lukas considered giving William something useful for his Secret Santa gift. He was still thinking of him bickering with the Sergeant when he thought of potentially giving him something that would help him relax, like some candles… or something. Whatever helped people stay calm. Or maybe a coffee machine, because the Lieutenant’s coffee consumption rivalled his own, though he had to admit both of them fell short to the amount of coffee Lauren Sinclair drinks in a day. She drinks coffee in place of water, he wondered occasionally how she was even still alive.

But then he walked past a bookshop, and found a particularly striking book placed behind the display window: ‘ _Embracing the Wild: How to stay calm in the face of the unpredictable_ ’. Self-help books… _Interesting_ , he thought. Certainly he knew that the Lieutenant had a particularly patient demeanor, but perhaps Kym Ladell herself embodied the unpredictable, a wild, wild chaos of her own. Maybe he could find value in the self-help book somehow.

(Or maybe he was just too lazy to think of a more meaningful gift. He was running out of time anyway, and he was sure William would appreciate anything anyway, being the kind hearted man he was. Besides, Lukas wasn’t too concerned over the lack of sentiment in such things—he’d never been one bothered with sentiments anyway. Really, it’s the money that counts anyway, and William had plenty of that to begin with.)

He entered the bookshop, paid for the gift, and got a plain paper bag to go along with the gift. He then made his way to the location of the gathering, a cozy pub around the 11th precinct called Vol de Feu, famous for its rustic atmosphere and homey feel. It was the perfect place for such a gathering, for a holiday that prioritized cheer and the warmth of family, even if they weren’t to spend it with family. If anything, Lukas suspected that the tradition existed for those workers who didn’t have a family to spend it with. It had been tradition, so he couldn’t be too sure. He, for one, also spent Christmas alone, though he was pretty content with the arrangement.

He dragged his heavy feet through the unrelenting cold, sheets of snow layering the brick-lined streets of Ardhalis. The wind blew particles of snow in every direction, and they melted in contact with his warm body, water seeping into his coat and beret. He huffed in annoyance, the breath coming out as clouds ahead of him, obstructing his foggy vision just by a smidge. Out of all nights, why did tonight’s weather have to be particularly rough? 

But the question he ought to ask himself was really, why did he even bother putting all the effort to go through with this rendezvous, when he could’ve just—stayed at home like was expected of him?

His face heated to think of the answer, but then he began to steam in anger upon its reinforcer—the blackmailer, Kym Ladell. If only she wasn’t so perceptive…

_UghHhHHHhHHhHhhHh._ He kicked the pebbles on the streets sullenly, causing snow to splatter. His face darkened when he saw the humble sign saying _Vol de Feu_ , and from its snow-covered windows he could see the starking contrast between the lively fire of the pub and the gray winter outside. At the very least, if he had to suffer under the shackles of human interaction, he wouldn’t have to freeze to his death, he thought bitterly.

He took a deep breath before opening the door. He desperately needed that patience, he soon realized, because before he even stepped inside he was greeted by the loud laughter of the officers and some other guests. He let out a sigh, proceeded to hang his coat on the hanger and, after placing his gift over on the table for the Secret Santa gifts, made his way to the officers.

They were gathered around the fireplace, apparently reliving the occasional funny moments of the precinct. He didn’t have to hear her to know that Kym was probably blowing the story out of proportion for the sake of humor. At least it was well received, he noted from the way the other officers were clutching their stomachs in uncontrollable fits of laughter. Kieran White, the archivist, was quite clearly a little out of place, given that he was the newest member of the group and hadn’t been through much of these experiences, but he offered his laughs nonetheless. William Hawkes pinched his forehead upon the boisterous antics of his Sergeant, but Lukas noticed that he was suppressing a smile.

“Lukas! Took you long enough,” Officer Dahlia Graystone was first to greet him, always quick to notice an additional presence. He had no qualms when it comes to Dahlia. Most people tend to react with wariness and fear when it comes to the Grumpy Cat, while some brave souls like Kym Ladell ignored all the signs flashing red and went so far to annoy him in spite. Dahlia was a good middle ground, and he appreciated her for that. “Why are you late, anyway? You were the first to leave the precinct.”

He gestured vaguely to the table bearing gifts. “Got home to get changed and get a gift,” Lukas mumbled, then under his breath: “and maybe I’ve been stalling so I don’t have to spend more time with you lot.”

Officer Alexander Costa teased in a singsong tune, “Yet you came anyway. What could that mean, if not _looooooove_?” 

“I have my gun with me at all times and I’m not afraid to use it on any of you.”

Alexander, cheeky as he got, flashed a nervous grin upon his threat, knowing full well that he spoke only the truth. (It… was half a truth. Lukas wasn’t afraid to use it on them, but he didn’t have his gun with him. (Well, it was on his coat, so the statement was still considerably true.)) Lukas rolled his eyes. These wimps really should think before they speak.

Unfortunately for him there was one ever so fearless officer who haunted his days first and foremost with her ability to be so perceptive and way too confident for her own good. It was apparent that she had overheard her fellow officers, because she said: “He has a point, you know. What _coooould_ be the driving force that pushes you through the bleak white winter, through heavy winds, all the way home and back here just to attend a measly gathering you don’t even want to be in? Hmmm. One can only wonder…”

Through gritted teeth, Lukas forced out, “Well I’m here now, so don’t you dare speak a word that betrays whatever you may be wondering.”

“Or?” Kym challenged, a smirk playing on her lips. “Is there anything you _can_ do to stop me from revealing your deepest, darkest secret? You don’t have anything against me.”

_Shit_ , Lukas thought with a pang of truth. _She has a point_. “You know I won’t let you slide so easily if you do. I’ll find a way to make you suffer, find a secret of yours to reveal in turn.”

“Well that’s not very Christmas-y, now is it?” Kym laughed with her head thrown back. Lukas would like to hope that it meant she wasn’t being serious in revealing his secret, but he couldn’t be too sure. The Sergeant was so irregular that there was no telling what she could do… He sighed, heading over to where the archivist and the Lieutenant were sitting, trying to have a casual conversation over the noisy laughter of the other officers.

“Merry Christmas, Randall,” William Hawkes greeted amiably, as he always did. “I must admit, I’m curious; what does Sergeant Ladell hold over you to drag you all the way to the gathering with such ease?” Kieran White offered to order him a drink, but Lukas politely refused, taking the empty seat next to him.

“‘M not a fan of milk,” Lukas explained to Kieran briefly, before turning to his blonde superior. He let out a heavy sigh. “Way too observant for such a devious woman. Not a good combination.”

The men laughed lightly. Kieran pointed out, “So was it something you did in the _precinct_? Man, you must’ve been gutsy enough to do anything in front of the Sergeant.”

“It isn’t—” Lukas groaned. “It’s not anything bad, it’s just—”

Right at that moment, the bells by the door jingled and the door of the pub opened. In walked Lila Desroses, the lovable secretary of the 11th precinct, looking the same way she did in the office earlier with an overcoat and rose-tinted cheeks from the biting cold. Even as she rushed to get warmth from inside, she looked graceful in her motions, her flowy skirt dancing with the cold wind briefly before the door closed shut. Lila then allowed herself to bask in the homey warmth of the pub, before taking off her coat and hanging it on the hanger.

“Well this is interesting,” William Hawkes mused, his voice a deep baritone. Lukas snapped his head to look at William taking a sip from his hot chocolate calmly. His face betrayed no emotion, but his eyes had a knowing glint to it. “I’d thought something was odd earlier when you paused on your way out, but it seems like there’s a lovely reason you did.”

Lukas froze. _Was I— was I that obvious—_

“Oh?” Kieran, on the other hand, did not bother masking his mischief. His brows were raised and his cerulean eyes were wide in cognizance, the corners of lips curling up slyly, teeth flashed in all its white brilliance. (Lukas often wondered how he wasn’t modelling for a fashion line and instead working as an archivist. He was sure he wouldn’t be the only one.) “Is this a hint of human emotion I see, coming from the ever so cold Grumpy Cat? And for none other than the vivacious, exuberant, living embodiment of all things emotional and _life_ herself, the one and only—” he stopped when he saw the way Lukas was gripping the knife on the table, and cleared his throat. “You know,” he finished off timidly, before giving him a sheepish look. “C’mon, now. Love isn’t a crime.”

“One word of this to anyone and I’ll show you how many crimes I _can_ commit,” Lukas grumbled, glaring at the cheeky archivist. Kieran twisted his lips to an amused smile; maybe because the flush of his face was making him look less intimidating than usual, or maybe because his threat sounded hollow for a law-abiding officer. William knew better, though, because the tease in his eyes shifted to surprise and he began choking on his hot chocolate. 

“Not a word to anyone, _we_ swear.”

Kieran nodded slowly. “Then again, it’s not like people won’t notice. You make it quite clear.” Then after a pause, “Is that what Ms. Ladell blackmailed you with?”

Lukas swore under his breath. William dropped his mug, the hot chocolate splattering out due to the sudden motion.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out. “So _that’s_ the entire reason you’re here?”

Lukas shut his eyes in pain, letting his head drop to his hands as his finger rubbed against his temples. Before he could give an explanation (or more like another threat), he was saved by the bell that rang upon opening, revealing a languid Lauren Sinclair, face flushed even more red than Lila earlier, prying her coat off her body in a stiff manner. When he looked back, he was glad to see that the two men’s attention had finally been ensnared by Lauren’s arrival, because that meant he was off the hook for now.

“LAAAURREEENNNN! You’re here!” Kym’s voice blasted through the room despite the already loud atmosphere of the bar, it rang in Lukas’s head for a while. Lauren, despite her stale eyes which betrayed how sick she must have been, lit up upon seeing her best friend. She made her way to Kym, light in her steps, while Kym all but ran to engulf her in a hug, the force so massive that Lauren nearly fell on her back.

_What is this disgusting domesticity?_ Lukas thought, feeling the gag building out on the back of his throat.

“You’d think they haven’t seen each other for a solid year, or something.” William Hawkes was laughing fondly upon the sight of his two best friends, exchanging their Christmas greetings with joy and sentiments. 

Kieran looked at the two with an emotion just as intense, but it wasn’t quite the same. It held an air of… wistfulness. Of what, Lukas couldn’t be too sure. “To be fair, in a job where you can die any day, it may be gratifying to just see the other alive.” Lukas blinked. It didn’t sound like something he, as an archivist, would say. Maybe he did know someone who did have a dangerous line of work. Maybe they were still alive. Maybe that person was none other than Lauren Sinclair herself, as he’d heard rumors of them dating, but he could never be too sure. Lauren didn’t look like someone who’d date, after all. Then again, Lukas himself didn’t look like… like someone who would… well, catch feelings for anyone.

William confirmed the rumors somewhat when he said, “Go talk to her, White. We know you’re dying to see her.”

“She’ll be fine,” Kieran muttered, gulping.

“It’s Christmas, buddy. Go be with her.”

Kym was back to chatting with the other officers, having decided to give Lauren some space to calm down from the sudden gust of hecticness, leaving Lauren alone for the meantime. Mustering his dignity (or whatever he was doing when he took a deep breath), Kieran decided to do as the Lieutenant said, heading to the couch where Lauren was currently situated. Lukas turned to William, raising an eyebrow. He was curious, but didn’t care enough to ask.

William merely shrugged. “The night’s still young, we’ll talk eventually. If not, that’s fine, too. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Coffee—”

“Sounds good indeed, but it’s _Christmas_ —”

“—how many times are you going to—”

“—drink something else for a change. If you don’t like milk, then have some hot cocoa.” William was insistent. They had a staredown for a few seconds, Lukas shooting his best infamous glare, but William was unrelenting.

Lukas huffed, breaking his gaze from the piercing ocean eyes. “Can you get me something with Baileys? I might need some alcohol to deal with tonight’s shit without murdering anyone.”

“Might I remind you that you’re an officer, and you have a duty to _protect the civilians_ tomorrow morning?”

“Come on, Lieutenant, _it’s Christmas_ ,” he drawled, glaring at him. “And I’m pretty sure there isn’t a law that says ‘Officers are not allowed to drink off duty’.”

William drummed his fingers on the table in contemplation, before abruptly standing up. He exhaled roughly. “Don’t make me regret this decision, Randall,” he muttered, an eyebrow raised in warning. 

“You can’t tell me you haven’t been thinking of getting some for yourself, _Sir_ ,” he shot back. William snorted, confirming his thoughts, before heading towards the bar, leaving him alone on the table. 

For the nth time that day, he wondered why he even came to the gathering at all. His wandering eyes looked around the room for something to watch, not knowing what to do. They eventually landed on a particularly funny looking scene between Lauren and the archivist, Kieran. Lauren had her feet on the couch, legs folded against her chest, and a coat—Kieran’s?—draped across her entire form as she tried to shrink against the corner for some unknown reason, while Kieran had both his arms outstretched to the side like he was… waiting for a hug? Unfortunately for him, the officer wasn’t planning on relenting, instead deciding to argue with him. Their bickering looked comical, Lauren jutting her head as she tried to be mad at him in all her tiny human ball figure, and Kieran trying to retort at her while pouting. Lukas watched them like he’d just seen something he couldn’t explain in any human terms, like he’d just seen someone sprout two new heads on either side of their head. 

Then something, entirely too nauseating for Lukas to witness, happened. Kieran finally got to wrap his arms around Lauren, slowly but surely. Lauren paused mid-whine, and Lukas watched in inexplicable fascination as the tension in Lauren’s face melted the way snow melts into water droplets; so subtly, he could miss the change, but so satisfying to see in action. Her lips shifted into a circle, and she seemed to exhale a soft “Ahh”, her eyes blinking repeatedly. Kieran nodded slowly; his face was blocked from Lukas’s vision, but he could imagine his expression to be similar to Lauren’s, enjoying their new shared warmth. He seemed to have muttered something, and Lauren nodded in response, slowly shuffling to lean into his embrace a little better. She mumbled something like “This is nice” as she nuzzled her head against the crook of his neck and her eyes fluttered close. Kieran softly rubbed her right arm, perhaps trying to make her feel as warm as he could. 

Lukas’s face contorted into that of absolute, utter disgust. His stomach was churning so bad, he couldn’t even guarantee for sure that he wouldn’t be vomiting out his food remnants anytime soon.

Right at that moment, William returned with their two drinks. “You look like you just swallowed a whole lemon,” he pointed out, concern apparent in his face, as he placed Lukas’s drink in front of him. “Are you okay?”

He was, in fact, _not_ okay. The stomach acids in his guts weren’t helping his case, and he was sure he’d vomit if he decided to drink on an empty stomach. In a rash, he munched on one of the baked cookies on the table, but regretted it immediately when he tasted how sweet it was, spitting some crumbs out. William reeled back, but tried to restrain his disgust to himself, instead showing more concern for the choking officer. “Lukas, are you okay?” William helped hit his back lightly to let some airflow into his lungs.

“Too— sweet—” he choked out between coughs. He grabbed the drink and downed the liquid in a hurry, belatedly realizing it was alcoholic and letting it burn the inside of his throat. He hung his mouth open, stung from the sharpness of the liquor. 

“That… probably wasn’t the best idea, dude.”

Lukas glared at the blonde. _Does it look like I don’t already know that?_ He couldn’t say it, but it seemed like William got the message—or he was simply terrified of Lukas’s death glare. 

Unfortunately, the other officers had begun to notice the little commotion, so of course Kym had to point it out. Fortunately, what she said diverted their attention quickly right after she roasted the hell out of him: “Since it seems like Officer Randall is, quite literally, dying to get out of this celebration as soon as possible, and since everyone’s arrived at last, I’ll go ahead and distribute the Secret Santa gifts to everyone!”

With the help of Officer Sienna Taylor, the latest officer to have joined the patrol unit, Kym began distributing the gifts to their intended recipients. Sienna was the one to hand William his gift, the one from Lukas himself. William spared no time in checking his gift, and he was… well, amused by the gift he’d received. 

Lukas couldn’t help but snicker at his reaction. This, obviously, caught William’s attention. He chuckled before he could even ask, “Was this your doing?”

Lukas shrugged, trying his best to maintain his neutral expression. “I don’t know who it is, but they have a great sense of humor.” 

William rolled his eyes, a ghost of a smile remaining on his lips. “ _‘Embracing the Wild’_? What ‘wild’ do I even need to learn to embrace?”

The answer came not even a second later, skipping on her way to their table, bearing Lukas’s gift. “Ooooh, I see you’ve opened your gift, _Willame_ ,” Kym probed. “Is that—a book?” She then turned to Lukas with an acknowledging look. “A boring gift for a boring man, understandable.”

Lukas turned to William, and cocked his head. _This wild_ , he conveyed through the utterly done look on his face, and William sighed, equally done. “I don’t think any amount of books I read can help me with dealing with this particular annoying insignificance in my life,” he said hopelessly. Lukas patted his back, mustering the most sympathetic face he could, which probably looked like a nasty grimace. 

“Did you get him a _self-help_ book, of all things?” Kym asked incredulously, and Lukas wondered how she could be so dense when it came to herself. “Well, I have to admit, there’s a _loooooot_ of him that needs to be helped,” she sighed dramatically. “On the other hand, _you_ seem to be getting a hell of a gift. Look at this heavy box!”

She slammed the box loudly on the table, and Lukas casted her a brief glare, but she ignored it, grinning at him cheekily. “C’mon, open it! I’m curious as to who would’ve gotten you such an amazing gift.”

He had to admit, he’d forgotten that the Secret Santa exchange included him receiving a gift in addition to him having to buy a gift. He sighed in exasperation, before opening the lid of the box, revealing a simple knit scarf in dark blue. 

“Oooh, a hand knitted scarf, that’s soOOO adorable!” Kym gushed, sighing dreamily. “Man, I wish I could’ve gotten a hand knitted scarf myself. Damn, the thought and effort they must’ve put into it! They sound like an amaaazing sweet human bean. I mean, being. God, I wonder who could it be.”

Lukas raised an eyebrow. “Why do I feel like you know who it is?”

“That’s because she definitely does,” William rolled his eyes. “You peeked at our recipients when we were drawing the lots, didn’t you?”

“How dareth thou accuseth me of such a scurrilous crime?” Kym gasped, hand against her chest, eyes bulging out at the Lieutenant. “I am merely an observant soul, an innocent passerby in the world of deceit and trickery. A bird watcher amongst the birds, a listener amongst those who scream.” For some reason, she took William’s drink and downed a huge portion of it. William didn’t even look surprised, all too used to her antics. Lukas looked at her like she was deranged. “What? I’m thirsty.”

William scoffed. “Maybe if you don’t strain your vocal chords by spewing bull—”

“ANYWAYS,” she slammed the glass against the table loudly, and Lukas snapped his head in irritation, giving her another glare, which she ignored as well. “As I was saying. This scarf seems to have been made by a very wonderful, lovable person! Why don’t you try it on?”

“Tell me who it is, and I’ll _consider_ it,” Lukas negotiated.

“It’s not anyone you don’t know.”

“Well of- _fucking_ -course, Sarge, I know everyone in our unit.”

“I—okay,” she relented, though he suspected she’d wanted to tell him anyway. Or at least, drop enough hints for him to figure out; for why, he couldn’t tell yet. “I’ll tell you this at most: I’m surprised you haven’t figured out that you were their Secret Santa recipient, because you would’ve caught them staring at you in the precinct. You idiots are honestly the most obvious saplings in the universe, you wouldn’t last two days as a spy in the APD.”

William took a double take, casting a calculating scan at her. Lukas wasn’t too sure why he was so thrown off by her casual comment; it wasn’t like she’d never made jokes like this. Was he… Lukas shook his head, abandoning the thought. Of course, he’d always made sure to be wary of everyone, because God knows how many spies the Phantom Scythe could’ve had in their precinct. However… to quote William Hawkes himself, it was a Christmas celebration; for once, he’d like to think that happiness— _security_ , at the very least, existed in their world.

“Unlike you, I don’t spend my work hours staring at others,” Lukas retorted in response to her useless hint. Kym merely raised an eyebrow. 

Oh. _Oh. Ooooohhh._

No fucking wonder. 

He narrowed his eyes at the Sergeant, trying to hide the rising blood to his face. “Did you—did you rig the draw, or something?”

Kym snorted. “I don’t play nasty, Randall, I’m an officer of the law,” she deadpanned. “You know, one would say that… this, this connection between you and our lovely secretary, this can only be _fate_.”

Lukas was offended to find that, despite having rolled his eyes, William Hawkes seemed to be in support of the Sergeant, suppressing a smile by biting down his lower lip. This caused him to scowl at the two. “Fate, my fucking ass. It was just coincidental. I’m sure one of you lovebirds could’ve gotten each other’s name as well.”

At that, William Hawkes flushed ever so slightly. Kym, hilariously—to Lukas, at least, because of the massive irony—remained oblivious. “You know, that’s a pretty good point. Did Lauren or Kieran get each other? They seem to be very cozy over there, I don’t even have the heart to tease them about it. Man, if one of them got each other’s gift as well, the fates must be very kind. A Christmas miracle.”

“Miracle, huh,” William mused, looking everywhere but Kym. Lukas… well, he was internally cringing at the situation playing out before him. He stood up, deciding to leave these two idiots to figure it out themselves, but only when he did he realized that he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. He’d join the officers, but they seem to be preoccupied in some game of ‘Truth of Dare’. 

Kym was quick to notice what Lukas had in mind (which frustrated him even more—why couldn’t she just be invested in _her own life_ for once) and _so helpfully_ pointed out aloud: “Oh, would you look at that, Lila’s alone and looking like she could use some company! This, also, I shall attribute to the fates.”

“You can’t make it any more obvious, can you?” Lukas grumbled under his breath, thinking of different ways to… silence the Sergeant permanently.

Kym was quick to retort: “You’re the one making it way too obvious, loverboy—”

“Do _not_ call me—”

“Now go get your girl before someone else drags her into the unfortunate game of ‘Truth or Dare’ they’re playing.” Kym slapped his back, and he jerked from the sudden contact, glaring at her viciously. She merely grinned back at him cheekily. “At least thank her for the gift. At most? Invite her to watch the fireworks.”

He refrained himself from putting the Sergeant in a chokehold. He clenched his jaw, before turning to leave his superiors, deciding to do as Kym suggested and headed for Lila Desroses, sitting on a couch across the fireplace, next to the couch on which Lauren and Kieran were cuddling. She was sipping lightly on her hot chocolate, looking fondly at the gifts she’d gotten, placed inside a neatly arranged box.

“What are those?” Lukas couldn’t help asking, because she’d gotten _a bunch_ of things, not just one, and they seemed to be quite random. 

Lila beamed at him, evidently surprised that he was initiating the conversation. “Lukas! Merry Christmas to you! Come,” she patted the space next to her, urging him to sit. Well, what was he going to do? Say no? So he took a seat, keeping a relative gap between them to not impose on her personal space. She seemed grateful that he did, even though she didn’t say it aloud.

“It’s a care package,” she informed him, taking out a container filled with cream. “From Dahlia, I’m assuming. The other day, she got worried over my calloused fingers and thought I haven’t been taking care of myself, so she probably decided to get me a bunch of stuff to make sure I do. She really is the most considerate officer around. Then again, everyone here is really nice.”

“And you decide to say this to the rudest one among us all,” Lukas snorted. He didn’t mean it as a joke, since it was true after all, but it surprisingly brought out a melodic laughter from the secretary. He turned to look at her, and she seemed to genuinely find it hilarious.

“I mean, your thoughts are unnecessarily scary sometimes,” Lila admitted, and he honestly couldn’t tell if she was joking. “But eventually, you’re a decent person.”

“You mean, making murderous threats as a cop is your definition of decent? I think you’re too nice in your judgment of people.”

Lila chuckled, and shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve been told that by a number of people. But I don’t think one should be held accountable for their _thoughts_ , you know? Anyone can think of bloody murder, given specific circumstances. Whether you decide to act on it is what makes the difference. I think you being a cop says a lot on what you actually act on, rather than just think.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate, savoring it. “Besides, it’s not like your... questionable thoughts have ever harmed anyone. I think you’re good, Lukas.”

_How is it possible for someone to have thoughts as beautiful as their appearance?_ Lukas blinked repeatedly, unable to believe what he’d just heard. People were usually just scared of him, or treated him like he was all bark and no bite. Which could be true, but no one saw him quite the way Lila did, and it felt…

_Ugh_. Well, it felt disgusting, for one. Foreign, definitely. But it also felt… nice, to be appreciated like any other human. Normally he avoided any form of human interaction like the plague, but he was still human after all—there was always a side of him that simply longed to be seen, understood, accepted. Though he wasn’t attracted to Lila because of this, when he heard these words, he really appreciated her more than he already did.

“Why are you so… understanding?”

Her eyes left his gaze, falling on the wooden floor to their side. “What’s there not to understand? We’re all human, we behave the same way.”

“You’re saying you’ve thought of murdering our Sergeant before?”

Lila snapped her head to him, blinking repeatedly. “Well, if you put it that way—no, I haven’t. W-Why would you want to murder Kym? She’s so sweet!”

Lukas—he couldn’t quite believe it himself, but a small chuckle escaped his lips. “I’m kidding,” he said honestly. For once, a smile that wasn’t sinister. Lila seemed to be just as surprised by this. He continued, “But she can get _very annoying_. Mostly I think of ways to get revenge on her, to make her life as much of a living hell as she made mine.”

Lila laughed, not even a trace of doubt in her voice, and Lukas wondered why she was quick to believe him, even if he _had_ been telling the truth. “See, that’s not so bad. I mean, that’s very human. Revenge. You’re not that bad, Lukas.”

“And here I’ve always thought you feared me, because of all my off-handed comments,” Lukas admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m not scared of you; there are worse people out there to be genuinely feared.”

Lukas knew she was right. They were officers of the law, after all; they faced these monsters first and foremost, knowing the full extent of how horrible some of these beings were. Perhaps that was why Lila was still able to be unconditionally kind hearted, even towards the rudest of people, like himself. Out there, there were much scarier creatures, creatures who acted on their murderous intents, who spared no empathy for fellow humans. 

He—not just he, _they_ , really, the 11th precinct—were so blessed to have a lovely secretary such as Lila Desroses, a beautiful reminder that among all the iniquities that roamed the streets of Ardhalis as of late, there were still people so terribly and painfully human to the core, people who still strove to fight for justice, who still dared dream, hope of a beautiful, human world.

“See what happens if you try to be civil? You actually enjoy your time here,” quipped a voice nearby, and Lukas turned to see Kieran White, watching them, specifically _him_ , with a cheeky smirk. He noticed that Lauren wasn’t there anymore, and wondered how long Kieran had been watching their conversation. He looked around to see where Lauren could’ve gone, and found her chatting and laughing with William at the same spot they’d been earlier. William had been right, he supposed; the night was young, and they had time. They didn’t always have time, as front-liners of the war against evil, but perhaps Kym, irksome as she could be, had also been right: the fates were extremely pitying this particular night. 

Lila was unfazed by Kieran’s teasing; in fact, she decided to _join_ him: “Come on, Mr. White, he finds it hard to be civil because you guys keep treating him like some murderous cop. He’s just as soft as any human, really.”

Lukas’s face twitched at her calling him soft, but he _might’ve_ been softened by her, because he found it hard to stay mad at her. He could never be mad at her, really. Kieran, who was watching him, broke into a booming laugh. “Randall, have you _seriously_ gone soft over her? Who knew all it took to tame you was _one, un, singular,_ interaction between you two?”

“We’ve talked before, White,” Lukas forced through gritted teeth. “I was just feeling nice today.”

“And, pray tell, why are you feeling nice? Is it because of the beautiful scarf?”

That reminded him. He glanced at Lila hesitantly, hands resting on the scarf he received. “You knitted this scarf?”

Lila flushed, nodding. “It’s… it’s not much, but I thought you could do with some warmth. You—you don’t have to use it, really—”

“T-Thank you,” he said genuinely. He’d like to say more, but he was… quite tongue-tied, too scared to make a fool of himself.

Lila looked up at him through her long lashes. “I—you’re welcome,” Lila exhaled softly, and let out a small smile. “I hope you, uh, do find some use for it. The weather’s really cold outside these days.”

Lukas looked out the window to see that night had fallen and engulfed the sky in a royal blue, the rapid snowfall popped out in bright contrast. “Indeed, it is,” he agreed in a trance. 

“Beautiful, though, isn’t it?”

He turned to see Lila also watching the outside, and couldn’t help but note how beautiful her star-struck expression was. If only she could see herself, in wondrous admiration of the world. She was more beautiful than any view and any weather could ever be, and though he wanted to show that to her, he didn’t know how.

He hummed instead. “Beautiful, indeed.”

It finally felt like home.

* * *

**“I** dare you to play, until you _win_ , a game of ‘Chubby Bunny’ with an opponent of your liking.”

Lukas Randall was now genuinely considering the idea of murdering Kym Ladell. His words to Lila be damned, the Sergeant went too far in trying to taunt him.

The other officers, as he’d expected, were laughing at the ridiculous request. ‘Chubby Bunny’ was, in fact, a harmless party game, but because it was directed at Lukas who was the antithesis of all things sweet, they found it understandably hilarious. If it were anyone but him, he might’ve found it equally as hilarious, even to the extent of appreciating the young Sergeant’s wicked mind. It was simply unfortunate that it was directed at him, who had foolishly chosen ‘dare’ in order to avoid having to possibly confess to the ‘truth’, that was the secret she held against him.

He should’ve known the night was too good to be true; the fates give and take, and the price he had to pay for the chance to talk to Lila was having to overdose on sugar, apparently.

“Nice one, Sarge!” Alexander hollered, and they high-fived. “Definitely could’ve gone for worse, but can’t say I’m not interested to see him stuff on all those marshmallows.”

“What’s worse for you is what’s better for him. Sometimes it takes less to break down such an eccentric man,” Lauren reasoned. Of course she’d be in support of her best friend’s ridiculous dares. God, he couldn’t wait to be on the giving end of the truth or dare, and give them a taste of their own medicine.

In the end, because he thought she would have some sympathy for him in his suffering, he chose none other than Lila herself. He could only silently plead that she wouldn’t get too ambitious and let him win with ease. “Remember, you _have_ to win, or you keep playing,” Kym so helpfully reminded, not that he wanted to be reminded of such a torturous aspect of the dare. Was it even legal for her to dare him such a thing? It was barely a dare; it was all but an _order_ that he couldn’t refuse, otherwise he’d probably be forced to tell a truth… and he definitely would take the dare over telling any truth _Kym Ladell_ would force him to spit.

He sighed, and placed a roasted marshmallow in his inner cheek, wanting to finish this game as fast as he could. They alternated in placing marshmallows into their mouths. After adding each marshmallow, he muttered “Chubby bunny” under his breath, earning massive laughs from his coworkers. He’d never seen William Hawkes laugh as loudly as he did that night, the voice reverberating across the room in its bassful glory. Kieran, the cheeky piece of shit, had literal tears in his eyes as he clutched his abdomen in his laughing fit, while Lauren tried her best to take as many pictures as possible with her camera. What a perfect pair indeed they were. Lukas scowled—as menacingly as he could with a bunch of nauseatingly diabetic marshmallows in his mouth. Even Lila laughed, and he could only wish she accidentally let out some of those marshmallows so they could declare him winner and he could vomit out the mushy sugar shit in his mouth already.

But it was clear that Lila was just as much one of his torturers as the others, because she popped in another marshmallow with ease, saying “Chubby bunny” with so much clarity, as if she didn’t have about eight marshmallows in her mouth. Lukas exhaled as sharply as he could through his nose, but with his cheeks puffed out like, well, a chubby bunny, he probably looked all too ridiculous. He pouted at Lila, pleading silently, _Can’t you just lose for me already?_

Lila’s face lit up brighter, stars twinkling in her large doe eyes. “Are you—are you _pouting_?”

_Am I?_ Lukas thought to himself in disgust, willing his face into a frown. _But the FUCKING CHEEKS—_ Lukas wanted to groan, but even that he couldn’t do. He closed his eyes shut, feeling a migraine building up alongside the bile up his throat. The amplifying laughter didn’t help his case.

His saving grace came in the form of a loud sound, one that overpowered the cheerfulness in the room. They froze, before registering what had happened. “Fireworks!” Sienna exclaimed, before hurrying out the door. Some of the other officers followed suit. Lila was still in her spot, marshmallows in her mouth, looking at the spectacle from the window.

Fireworks be damned, he was just glad that they distracted the officers from him. He grabbed a paper towel, spitting out all the marshmallows from his mouth, before hasting to find a glass of water to rid himself of the aftertaste. It took him four glasses to finally feel like he could taste something other than sugar, and he allowed himself to finally calm down. 

When he got back to his senses, he noticed that Lila no longer had puffed cheeks, meaning she either ate the marshmallows or threw them out like he did. But what struck him more was the fact that she wasn’t watching the fireworks; he’d thought she’d be fascinated by the spectacle. It wasn’t often that Ardhalis shot fireworks in the night sky, the beautiful colors painting the black expanse that so often accompanied and terrified them.

“Aren’t you going to join the others?” He asked gruffly, keeping a slight distance from her.

She shook her head. “It’s a bit loud outside. Definitely warmer in here, too.”

Lukas didn’t press on the matter. He had a feeling there was more to it than simply it being loud, because Lila looked like she enjoyed the loud festivity, if anything. But whatever it was, it was personal, and tied to a story either of the past, or a story he didn’t deserve to be a part of yet. And while he’d like to know of these stories, it could wait. For now, he’d much rather enjoy the present, enjoy this side of Lila he’d grown to… to like, just as they were. For once, he’d like to be free of the horrors of Ardhalis, of the creatures of the past, and live the day knowing that there’d be a tomorrow. _A normal life_. 

It was Christmas, after all. He could at least wish for one day of peace.

But in the end, Lukas Randall found himself fooled by the fates again, only this time it was so much more than a harmless dare. Immediately he knew that something was gravely wrong when the Lieutenant and the Sergeant came back inside the pub with worried expressions on their face. The reason became clear right after: behind them were two detectives accompanied by two officers working the night shift, all from their precinct, the 11th precinct, all looking grim. The detectives looked around the room; one seemed to be doing a headcount of the people and noting down the officers who were present, and the other one seemed to be finding someone, because she stopped when her eyes landed on… Lauren and Kieran, seated on the booth in the corner.

“Is everyone present?” the detective muttered to the other detective, who nodded.

“Every officer in the day patrol unit, the secretary, the archivists. All present.”

The lead detective, Lukas presumed, began to take slow steps to the pair. When she stopped, she heaved a sigh, and ran a hand through her hair. “Sinclair,” she said raggedly. “It’s been a while.”

“Phoebe, hey,” Lauren greeted, wide eyes screaming confusion. “Why’re you… did something happen?”

“We’d like to request your cooperation for… an ongoing investigation,” the detective forced out. It wasn’t a wonder why she found it hard to say the words; everyone in the room knew that “requesting your cooperation” practically translated to “you’re a suspect”. The question now, of course, was _why_? He was further surprised when the detective added, sparing a glance to the other officers, himself included: “Actually, we’d like if all of you could come with us to the precinct briefly.”

Lauren, understandably, was stunned at the sudden accusation. Whether because she was innocent and didn’t expect such a thing to happen, or because… Lukas didn’t like to even _consider_ the alternative. Ever the brave officer, once a detective herself, steeled her nerves and asked the question they dreaded the answer to: “What investigation?”

“The murder of Detective Oliver March.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Y’all really thought I’d give you free fluff without a cost. (I was going to say, at least I didn’t kill anyone off again, but… that’s exactly what I did. Oh well.)
> 
> Long story short: this “one-shot” is a fluke and is in fact the introduction of **a short murder mystery fic** that I have planned! It’s my first time writing something heavily plot-driven, so I hope all goes well and there are not too many plot holes in the story :”) I’ll extend the chapter count and change the tags and ratings when I upload the next chapter. I’m also gonna have to ask you to **pay significant attention to summaries and author’s notes** —they’ll contain information as to potential trigger warnings and disclaimers. Oh and one more clarification: **lies will not be shown in red text in chapters that are not from Lauren’s POV** , which includes this chapter. (And yes, there’s a reason this chapter is the first chapter of the actual fic. It’s not just for the fluke. 👀)
> 
> A few people to thank: [Jackie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookswithjackie/pseuds/bookswithjackie), for bearing with me through this entire process of planning and scrapping and keeping it a secret; [Waters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charulean_Waters/pseuds/Charulean_Waters) and [Giggle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiddayGiggle/pseuds/MiddayGiggle), who inspired and suggested I try write a mystery fic and helped me HEAPS with the process (and also for providing Legitimate Lula); [Heather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathersky), for being my number one supporter and pushing me to go through with this fic even when I doubted myself ten times over. You guys are my Christmas miracles. Thank you so much, because if it weren’t for you this fic won’t see the light of day like,,, ever. 
> 
> I’ll try to refrain from writing long author's notes in future chapters, because, well, I realized that the authors notes I write can kind of make the writing itself pointless—I want you guys to figure out for yourselves what is going on, and ultimately, _why_ I decided to write this (I write everything for a reason!) Also maybe I just want to torture you guys more with zero context LMAO so I won’t be answering many questions. The only thing I’ll say for now, again, is **I write (almost) everything for a reason.** ;) 
> 
> Anyway, whether you celebrate it or not: HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS! Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments would definitely be my greatest Christmas presents ❤️ I hope you do stick around to enjoy the ride, even if this hasn't been aligned with your initial expectations! ❤️


	2. a convoluted cold case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth. Truth. Everything was truth.  
> So _how_ had she managed to become a suspect, out of nowhere?
> 
> _(Alternatively: I accidentally granted Hugues Hermann a partial character development, and realized too belatedly that he acts like a semi-rational person.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, loves! ❤️Starting off this year with a nice and simple discussion ;)
> 
> **_Please note that all procedures of law in this story may not be completely realistic, or even sensible. You’ll see why._** Also, **_please don't forget to check these author notes for chapter specific warnings!_** This chapter does not have any, so you're free to read.
> 
> Before we start, clarifications: the gathering in the previous chapter is on the day after Christmas (Boxing Day, if you will), and is exclusive to the officers of the day shift + archivists; as in, no detectives and higher-ranking officials — don’t ask why. The story **_refers to every information that is in canon up to Ep. 74, and no further_**. (I fastpass, but I won’t use the information in those episodes.) It takes off after the circus arc ends (so here I’m assuming that 1. The circus arc takes place Before Christmas, and 2. Lauren gets out safe and sound).
> 
> Some theories applied in the fic are ones I personally believe in, some others not. Either way—it doesn’t matter. Enjoy the riiiiiide!

**“WE** will officially begin the interview. You… are Lauren Sinclair, correct?”

“Correct.”

Detective Phoebe Seymour-Chui took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through her nostrils. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, before forcing them open to look at Lauren Sinclair, sitting opposite her, on the side neither of them would’ve ever expected for her to ever sit on.

“Can you please give an account of your whereabouts and what you were doing around 5 to 6 p.m. earlier this evening?”

It was Lauren’s turn to inhale heavily. _Breathe in, breathe out,_ she chanted in her mind. _Relax. There is no need to worry. You just have to tell the truth, and all will be fine._

All would be fine… wouldn’t it?

“I was home, in the Sinclairs’ manor,” Lauren started. “I came down with a cold, so Uncle insisted that I stay home and get some rest. So that’s exactly what I did. I didn’t leave the house the entire day, and the maids taking care of me can vouch for that.”

Truth. Truth. Everything was truth.

So _how_ had she managed to become a suspect, out of nowhere?

Of course, technically speaking, she wasn’t a suspect. If she was to be interrogated as a suspect, they would have made that clear, stating exactly their intentions. Furthermore, they would’ve had to have a warrant in order to interrogate her as a suspect; they couldn’t just interrogate anyone without ample evidence. But as someone who was once a detective—anyone with enough knowledge of the law’s inner workings would have known as well, really—she knew that this interview was that process of collecting evidence against her. They didn’t have enough, so they’d try to force it out from the suspect’s own mouth. 

That wasn’t sufficient to explain why she was the prime, if not the sole, suspect of the murder. 

Her bewilderment seemed to have become apparent to Phoebe, who toned down her voice a few notches and reminded her: “Lauren, honey, you know the procedure. We’re just collecting as much evidence and testimonies as we can, going through every possibility. The more you cooperate, the easier we solve this case, and maybe you can prove your innocence.”

Lauren hoped that meant they didn’t actually believe that she could be the murderer. They shouldn’t. They have no reason to. She had an iron-clad alibi. She nodded—trying to reassure herself, if anything, and kept her eyes trained at the corner of the table. “At least four maids were working today. You can phone each of them, and they’ll give you the same answer. If… if what I said was a lie, they’d be giving inconsistent responses, because the chances of all of them covering up for me are slim. I’m telling the truth, and so will they.”

The detective’s face was one of concern. “You saying that only makes it sound like you’ve considered all this beforehand. You could’ve told them all to lie, in case something like this happens.” Lauren snapped up her head to look at Phoebe, eyes wide in disbelief. She had been trying to stay rational, trying to be as honest as possible and cooperative to the interrogation in order to be cleared of suspicion, but clearly, that had backfired.

Perhaps she really should stop herself from running her mouth too much—if she did, there was no telling what they could do with the information she gave them, and she really did not want to give them a reason to have to investigate her further.

“No—I was—I was just—”

“Considering all the evidence that can be used to prove your innocence, yes,” Phoebe sighed, looking at the demoted detective with much pity. “That’s the problem with interviewing detectives—well, _ex_ in your case—sometimes. You know our workings, so it’s very plausible that you have these in consideration if you _are_ the murderer.”

Lauren ran her hand through her hair, throwing back her head. Her head was throbbing—whether in pain from her cold, or the growing headache from this sudden investigation, she didn’t know. Even though she’d been willing herself not to panic, she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t know what else she needed to point out to prove her innocence. While she believed that eventually, they’d have to let her go due to lack of evidence, she couldn’t prevent the growing fear—because after all, she had plenty to hide herself. And she knew that they’d take extreme measures to look for the evidence they need, which could potentially mean that her identity as Lune could be revealed. If they go to the point of searching her house and seeing her board and all the documents she stored, they’d _definitely_ be questioning her innocence. Knowing how desperate Hermann has been for Lune’s capture, she couldn’t risk that happening. Especially not now, when so much was at stake.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know what else to say. I’ve been lying in my bed all day, because just yesterday, even standing up made me feel all woozy and lightheaded. I’ve only gotten out of bed to shower and eat the past two days, and just now I forced myself out of the house because I wanted to at least meet my friends this Christmas.” Her eyes flew open as she leaned forward. “Have you even considered contacting them before interviewing me? Do you have _any_ evidence to go by with? How did—how did _I_ become the prime suspect out of nowhere? I’m literally the—”

“The last person to possibly have committed the crime, yes,” Phoebe agreed, nodding, though looking very frustrated herself. “Yes, we’re aware, and for many reasons. I, for one, don’t think someone as righteous as you are would’ve committed murder for any reason, especially not when it comes to Oliver. But that aside, we _have_ confirmed your alibi with the Chief and your maids, and as you said, they were consistent in their responses. The Chief could’ve ordered them to cover up for you, but we highly doubt that, because we called the maids before we informed him of the murder. Unless he knew the murder was going to happen, we think they must be telling the truth.”

Not a lie. One step forward.

“You don’t think _Uncle’s_ involved with the murder, do you?” Lauren asked in alarm.

“The possibility’s there, but as of now, given the circumstances, we highly doubt it.”

_Another truth_. Lauren took a shaky breath, inching back into her seat. “Alright. That’s… yeah.” So they _had_ collected as much information as they could. But… “Then why...”

Briefly, Phoebe glanced sidewards, looking hesitant. Lauren arched a brow. The detective then looked back at Lauren sternly. “The circumstances of the murder don’t make much sense, just about as little sense as arresting you. You’re… you’re not really the prime suspect of the murder. This really is just an interview, because as for the moment we have no leads to go by.”

Not a lie. Not a _single_ lie. 

So what was she being so hesitant for?

“I believe you,” Lauren said in turn, trying to keep her voice steady, “but there must’ve been a good reason you went straight to me when there were at least five other officers in the room. The only reason I can think of is because I was the only one not in the precinct when the murder happened. Meaning the murder wasn’t in the precinct? Why, then, do you believe that it must’ve been someone within the APD? Couldn’t it just be anybody? March’s a detective, he must’ve had plenty of enemies—” 

The door slammed open, revealing a somber Hugues Hermann, walking straight towards the chair next to Phoebe. “The murder happened _in_ the precinct, Sinclair.”

_What?_

Phoebe sighed. “Cap, we’re not supposed to disclose—”

“This was _your_ idea, Chui, so we might as well not waste our time dilly-dallying with things we already know the answers to,” Hermann grunted. He didn’t bother hiding his distaste for Lauren, glaring at her blatantly. “We thought it was you because you’re the only person who could’ve gone in and out of the precinct without raising suspicion.”

_What the actual—_ “With all due respect, sir, did you not consider the possibility that the murderer could have been inside the building for longer than the hour in which it happened?” Her voice was hasty, unlike the manner in which she usually spoke to her captain. She had to respect him, but the logic in which they suspected her under was too nonexistent, she couldn’t refrain from expressing her disbelief. “There was also the case with Harvey, who was clearly murdered by a Phantom Scythe assassin and _did_ manage to sneak in and out of the precinct undetected, so really, it could be _anyone_. Surely you haven’t just decided to pin it on me because you—”

“It has nothing to do with you, Sinclair,” Hermann growled.

“Surely it does! _I’m_ the one being suspected, and if you don’t do your jobs well, _I’ll_ be the one imprisoned for a crime I didn’t do. Not to mention, there’ll be a criminal on the loose if that happens.”

Phoebe slammed her hands on the table, catching the two fuming people’s attention. “Lauren, please hear us out for a second here. And Cap, you agreed on the idea as well, so be patient with her.” 

She turned to face Lauren. “We admit, we thought it was you at first, sheerly due to your absence from work today. It just seemed like the most obvious answer; you were the only one gone from work, and it’s not usual that you don’t come to work. Two deviant cases. And as for motive… Hermann believes that you could’ve murdered March because…” she trailed off, looking at Hermann briefly.

“Because?” Lauren urged, bouncing her right leg in nervousness. 

Phoebe shook her head. “We’ll get to that later. Hermann thinks you have a motive, I don’t necessarily agree. The point is, we confirmed that you had been home around the hour of the murder, so we ruled you out from the potential list of suspects. The problem is, you were our first and only suspect. Ruling you out means… everyone else in the precinct is now a suspect.”

“Again, it could’ve—”

“Been an assassin, yes, but they would’ve had to be extremely discreet and pretty daring to try sneak in the precinct in broad daylight, not to mention around that time, people were leaving the precinct, so they would’ve walked by many people. The thing that contradicts this would be the murder method itself.” Phoebe drummed her fingers on the table. “A clean gunshot, straight through the chest. On one hand, assassin-like in the sense that they would’ve had to have substantial marksmanship, but so do police officers. On the other hand, the lack of dramatics commonly associated with their name, and the fact that they did the murders before sundown. Of course, it doesn’t rule out the possibility, but also: if they _are_ an assassin, it’s… highly likely we won’t be able to capture them to begin with. If they can sneak in and out in plain sight and get away with a murder that cleanly executed, we probably wouldn’t be able to catch the murderer at all.”

_A repeat of Harvey’s murder_. Lauren placed her head in her hands. “So you do the next thing you can: accuse everyone else in the precinct?”

“We’re not accusing them until we have enough evidence to do so,” Hermann explained, and with a heavy sigh, he said, “which is where we need you.”

Lauren pursed her mouth in a thin line. “You need me to collect evidence that can potentially be used against my own coworkers.”

“Remember, Lauren, March was also your coworker, and someone had just _murdered_ him.” Clearly Hermann was trying to instill some feeling of responsibility in her, the urge to find his murderer and imprison them as soon as possible, but his death hadn’t even so much as _registered_ in her, what with her being immediately dragged into the interrogation room after they dropped the news. Added to her already befuddled state of mind, everything felt simply like a fever dream.

“I—can I have a glass of water?” she coughed, throat burning. Phoebe left the room briefly, before returning with the glass of water for her. She downed half in a single gulp. “It doesn’t— _why_ are you sure that it’s one of us?”

“We’re not sure of _anything_!” Hermann roared at her, though she couldn’t be sure this time whether he was more frustrated at her stubbornness, or at the nature of the case itself. “We’re trying to think of every possible case here, and you as a detective should know better. Right now, there is nothing we can be sure of, but we can rule out the ones we are sure _aren’t_ the possible murderers. So for the love of god and all things above, _please_ cooperate with us for once, and don’t be partial to your coworkers just because you _feel_ like it couldn’t be them.”

Lauren glared at the man, who was obviously insinuating what had happened over a year ago, the reason behind her demotion. But the fact that, despite that, they had requested for her cooperation for this case, showed just how desperate Hermann must’ve been. Lauren couldn’t blame him; the case seemed like a lost cause. They needed any little evidence they could get.

“Can you conclude anything from the crime scene alone?” Lauren questioned, just in case.

As she expected, Phoebe shook her head. “No trace of scuffle. They’ve scanned the scene for hair and fingerprints, but whatever little amount of evidence that does exist seems to all belong to March. He’s been brought to the hospital; forensics are analyzing from which gun the bullet came from, but it looks identical to the bullets we use, so it’s highly likely that either the murderer “borrowed” a spare gun from one of the officers, or…”

“...or it was theirs to begin with.”

Lauren was beginning to see why the detectives were thinking the way they were. The case was too… unhinged; all the details were off and nothing seemed to connect to one another, but that it was someone inside the precinct who had committed the murder seemed more plausible than the alternative. “We don’t like doubting our coworkers as much as you, Lauren,” Phoebe said softly, “but the Phantom Scythe is everywhere, even inside this building. If we don’t take these measures, more deaths will happen. Harvey, March… they didn’t have a reason to be killed.”

That was where she was mistaken, though. Lauren knew why Harvey was killed; ironically, _he_ had been the spy. March, however, she knew nothing about. There was always the possibility that he was another spy—but they wouldn’t kill _two_ spies they planted in the same precinct, would they? But why then would they murder March? The only reason she could think of that would explain the murder of a detective was the revival of an old case, where the convict, guilty or innocent, would come out of prison and seek revenge on them. If that were the case… it could’ve been just about anybody. “It could be just one of his old convicts, someone we absolutely don’t know,” Lauren reasoned. 

“You mean, someone wrongly convicted who aims to take revenge on him?” Phoebe contemplated on the idea. “Possible, but not so likely. Revenge murders tend to be passionate; this one was too clean, more like an assassination, or at the very least planned.”

“Revenge murders could very well be planned, especially if the convict’s been rotting in a jail cell for _years_ ,” Lauren argued.

Hermann scoffed. “If they’d suffer years of imprisonment, you can bet their revenge plan isn’t a simple ‘bullet to the chest’ murder.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. “Nonetheless, you should consider checking the list of people March convicted that were recently released,” Lauren suggested. “To check every possibility. If he’d wrongly convicted someone, it may even take a while for the suspect to practice aim in shooting bullets, so check the prisoners released ranging in about the past year or two.”

Phoebe couldn’t help the slight smirk curling up the corners of her lips. “Once a detective, always a detective.”

Lauren smiled weakly, but it quickly dimmed, knowing the very reason behind her demotion was sitting in the very same room as they were. Okay, that would be inaccurate— _she_ was the reason she was demoted in the first place, but _he_ was the reason she hadn’t been given back her position as a detective yet. Hermann seemed to be aware that she was thinking of this, and said, “You want your position as a detective back so badly, do you not?”

“Only if you feel like I deserve it, _sir_ ,” Lauren replied. She knew she shouldn’t have been so cheeky, especially not when it sounds like he was giving her the chance at last. But she _was_ fed up with Hermann’s increasingly unreasonable excuses to keep her as an officer. 

Hermann casted a brief glare at Phoebe, who nodded curtly. “If you want to prove yourself to be a competent detective, assist us in this case. As of now, we’ve lost one of our most valuable detectives, and there are not many others we can trust at the moment.”

“I don’t see how spying classifies as a determinant for being a competent detective.”

“We’re not asking you to spy, per se,” Phoebe argued. “We just ask that you pay extra attention to your coworkers from this point on. You asked earlier why we directed the accusation straight at you, rather than to the others. You might’ve noticed that while I was staring straight at you, Sandra took the time to scan the other officers, including the secretary and the archivists, and their reactions to the scene.”

It took a few seconds for Lauren to register what she was saying. “You mean it was… it was all an act.”

“It wasn’t so much of an act as it is an opportunity. We did have to pull you into questioning at the instant.”

“You made everyone believe that I was the prime suspect of the murder. Clearly that falls under deception,” Lauren goaded.

“You _were_ the prime suspect of the murder, before it was confirmed otherwise. And besides, we never explicitly said that we were interrogating you as one. It’s only our luck if they decide to believe so.”

Lauren couldn’t quite argue with that logic. “And you’re planning on using that opportunity to… to put their guard down, so that they… slip up? Reveal cracks in their facade? It’s not like I can do anything about it even if I _do_ see it,” she protested. She thought back on her last case as a detective, the one that ruined her career. Detective Cooper had been livid, lashing out at her for claiming he was lying from “his fucking pupils”. They would definitely not be accepting any form of simple observation as substantial evidence to lock up a man, so what were they expecting her to do?

“Observe, pay attention to their actions, is there anything they do that’s out of the ordinary? Look for inconsistencies in their words, are they saying things they don’t usually say? Are they considerably more nervous than they usually are?” Hermann fired. “ _Anything_ , Sinclair, anything that gives us legitimate cause to investigate them more.”

“Why are you so insistent that the suspect is among us?” Lauren threw her hands in exasperation. 

“How many times— _gods_ ,” Hermann spat, slamming his fists on the desk. “We told you, we’re considering every scenario possible. We have several detectives working on the other aspects too; everything you mentioned, we’re already looking in on it. We’re merely asking you to handle this one part of the investigation, the suspects we can identify, but cannot interrogate, due to lack of evidence. Is that clear enough to you?”

Lauren huffed. It was true, she supposed; perhaps she had simply gotten too worked up because she, herself, was insistent _against_ the very real possibility that it could be someone she knew. Ironic, because not even a week ago, she’d been warned of a betrayal. Sure, it didn’t necessarily translate to “Someone’s going to murder your coworker”, but if it was truly someone within the precinct who had murdered March, it was highly likely they were close to Lauren, and there was a high possibility that they could be the one to betray her. She didn’t want to trust Hecate—she didn’t believe in superstitions, after all. But every other part of her body seemed to have believed in the truity of this foretelling. Her stomach felt too acrid, and she could feel the heightened dryness of her skin. 

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “Oka—okay,” she coughed. “I’ll watch the officers. Does this include the detectives? The other precinct staff? Security?”

Phoebe twirled her pen. “Not the detectives; Sandra’s got that one covered. They have stronger alibis than the rest, even though they may have more motive than the others. But everyone else, especially those who frequent the first floor, you should look into. Security especially, because we think it’s possible that they could’ve helped the actual murderer sneak in the building. As in, they’re purely a spy and not a murderer. It would also explain how the non-officer used an officer’s gun to murder him.”

Lauren nodded slowly, her head way too dizzy to be performing quick motion. Then she paused. “Sir Hermann, would you happen to know of anything March is _currently_ investigating? Has he dealt with similar methods of murder?”

Hermann blinked. Lauren raised an eyebrow. 

“We’ll look into his current cases,” Hermann grunted. Lauren clenched her jaw. Hermann might’ve been unreasonable more so than not, but he clearly wasn’t an idiot. He purposely ignored her first question, she was sure. Because there _was_ something she knew about March, but it wasn’t something she was supposed to know.

It was, after all, a hunt for _her_.

She held back a scoff. _Of course_ Hermann would pull the same trick twice, pitting the officers’ trust against each other. Sometimes she wondered how he ever earned the _captain_ title, of all things, when he didn’t even have trust in his own officers to begin with. “Does he know anything about anyone in the precinct that was to be kept a secret?”

“There’s no reason for him to be reporting the precinct workers’ personal lives to me,” Hermann said blatantly.

Lauren wanted to scream— _If you want me to cooperate with you, you’ll have to cooperate instead of refraining important information like this_ —but of course then she’d have to explain how she knew of the hunt for Lune to begin with. _God, the amount of secrets in this precinct_. She had to admit, Hermann’s distrust for his coworkers was somewhat understandable, given people like her who had a lot of secrets to keep herself. Ugh. She wanted to hate him, but couldn’t even completely do that.

“He could’ve found out about something by accident,” Phoebe reasoned, “whether about someone’s involvement, in the PS or just in a crime, or even information about the PS itself. He might’ve kept it from Hermann and tried to deal with it personally with the spy first, which was—”

“Which would be foolish,” Hermann grumbled.

“But entirely possible,” Lauren mused. “Maybe he wasn’t completely sure, so he talked to them to question them, but they caught on and… killed him before he got the chance to rat out anything.”

“Which means we still don’t have a solid motive,” Phoebe groaned.

Hermann stood up. “It doesn’t matter what the motive is for now, leave that to the detectives. All you have to do for now is observe and report the behaviors of the officers, see if things don’t make sense. Don’t dwell on it too much.”

In her frustration, Lauren rose from her chair as well. “If you want me to help as a detective, you’re gonna have to _tell me things_ ,” she protested. 

“We’ll tell you things when we believe you deserve to know things,” Hermann declared with finality. “For now, do as I say. This is your chance to prove you’re worthy of being back in the IU.” He went out of the interrogation room, leaving the two women alone, with Lauren staring at the barren walls and her old coworker at the table ahead.

“Don’t… don’t mind him, he’s just annoyed that you’re potentially our only solution to solving this case,” Phoebe said reassuringly, her voice sounding like the flowing river, ever so calming. “I’ll let you know of any developments in the case, or Sandra will.” She stood up from her seat and began tidying the files on the desk. “For now, all we know is that March was murdered in the precinct, point blank to the chest, in the archives earlier this evening.”

Lauren stood frozen in her spot as Phoebe Seymour-Chui left the interrogation room, leaving her to be the last one standing.

_Archives?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interview procedures (at least the first few lines) are half from my Forensic Psych notes and half from standard K-Drama interrogation scenes, but perhaps in particular [The Guardians (2017)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Guardians_\(South_Korean_TV_series\)). (I still have LOTS to gush about this drama despite having finished this a couple of weeks ago, so _please_ check this drama out if you like shows discussing moral dilemmas and impeccable acting!)
> 
> Anyways. Thank you for still reading! Kudos and comments would absolutely make my new year ❤️ Once again, happy new year to you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: as much as I try to adhere to the current reality in the canon timeline, I have bent so many laws—law in its literal sense and laws of the fictional universe, that this can hardly be considered canon-compliant anymore. In other words, don’t call me out for technical things that I can’t be bothered about.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated (especially for this fic because I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing—please please _please_ let me know what you think so far!) ❤️


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